


Laytons;Gate

by ninjacolin2000



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series, Steins;Gate
Genre: Crossover, Developing Friendships, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25835134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninjacolin2000/pseuds/ninjacolin2000
Summary: Professor Layton and Luke are invited to a showing of the first ever time machine, along with many renowned scientists and physicists.  To the shock of them and the world, it takes a turn for the worst.Can the Professor and his assistant find his way to the bottom of this puzzle as he is tormented by the ghosts of his past?  And are they the only ones?
Relationships: Okabe Rintarou | Hououin Kyouma/Makise Kurisu
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11





	1. Temporal Encounter: the Professor’s Side

**Author's Note:**

> I'd recommend knowing both the plots to Steins;gate and Professor Layton and the Unwound Future. If you don't, enjoy anyway!

A two-floored bus navigated through London on a bright summer day. It was perhaps one-third full, and the top half had people scattered around its seats. Near the front, two distinctive figures stood out ―one man wearing a tall top hat and a casual suit, the other, a boy in his early teens wearing a blue sweater and a matching hat.

“It just doesn’t seem to add up, Professor,” frowned the boy, turning to the man sitting next to him. He held a piece of paper in his hand, neat cursive written across it.

With a chuckle, the man turned and replied, “I honestly thought you were pulling my leg, Luke.” 

“What? I wouldn’t dream of it!” Luke said with a pout. “Although this sure is a strange one.” He re-read the letter in his hands. It vaguely detailed a calamity to happen in their future ―which was exactly where the letter claimed to be from. It listed a time and place to meet. And to top it off...

“Strange as it sounds, it seems that the author of the letter is none other than your future self.” Quipped the Professor.

“From...my future self? But how is that even possible?”

“I don’t know. But it does raise the question: if the letter is indeed authentic, how did it get here?” The sides of the man’s lips twitched upwards into a slight smile at his own question. He did love a good puzzle, and it felt like it had been quite a while since something had forced him to question quite like this.

“Um...by time-traveling postman? I’m just joking, of course!” Smiled Luke as the Professor glanced amusedly towards his student. “But on a more serious note, I think this mystery might be the oddest one we’ve ever encountered!”

“Indeed. And even in the future, you seem to need my help in solving it.” The Professor smiled back at Luke. “Your constancy can be quite a comfort in these uncertain times, my boy.”

“Er...well thank you, I suppose. But back to the main question. How do we know the letter is real?” Questioned Luke, folding the letter back up and sliding it back into its envelope.

“Hmm. Well, we haven’t got much to go on yet.” The man pursed his lips, thinking. “But I can’t shake the feeling that this strange occurrence is linked to the terrible events of last week.”

“Hmm…”

* * *

Professor Layton was not particularly puzzled when he got a VIP invitation to the first public showing of a time machine. Surprised, but not puzzled. Rumor had washed through London like rain, and it had spread like fire, eventually funnelling into Gressenheller University. Dean Delmona, who was apparently quite the accomplished gossipmonger, had spread it through the faculty. Apparently, the attendants would be made of a mix of distinguished individuals in the scientific field, both from near and far.

Apparently, the individuals didn’t have to be focused on time travel, or even a specific related field. In his invitation, the Professor was credited as the man who discovered the Golden Garden, and as the man who had discovered a new element in the smog of the ghost town of Folsense. He assumed this was simply justification for inviting him―he was an archeologist, for goodness sake! 

That being said, even the Prime Minister had been invited with only his long past background in science, and when he’d spoken to Inspector Chelmey, he’d learned that the gruff man had received a similar invitation. It was being said that invitations had gone out as far as the States and Japan. The criteria for being invited were vague, but those who had gotten invitations were well worthy, the Professor agreed. 

Thus, on a cloudless June day, Professor Hershel Layton and Luke Triton found themselves in front-row seating for the first ever showing of a time machine. They shared a table with a mechanic who was once at the forefront of cutting-edge technology. Unfortunately, he was far past his prime, and seemed to be perpetually paranoid, constantly glancing behind him for some unseen threat.

After some dull conversation with the man, the Professor stood. Luke moved to stand with him, but was stopped. “Luke, if you wouldn’t mind, could you order for me when the waiter comes by?” Their waiter was stopped a few tables away. “If you take a close look at my napkin, you’ll be able to figure out what I’d like.” 

Luke leaned in to take a closer look at the napkin, which was folded and laid gently upon the menu. He smiled, then turned to his mentor with a grin. “You got it, Professor! I’ll have it solved in no time!” 

“Excellent, my boy. I’m just going to wander the event. If I find anyone who you’d be interested in, I’ll let you know.” Luke hummed in reply, already carefully unfolding the napkin. As he walked away, Layton smiled to himself―Luke had already begun to figure out what was needed to solve the puzzle.

As he walked through the crowd of scientists, politicians, and engineers, the Professor made polite greetings to those he recognized. All the while, he pondered what he had left to teach Luke. The boy’s growth shocked him, and he held no doubt their time together was coming to a close. Last he had spoken to the Triton family, they had been looking into moving overseas. While he loved having the second child in his life, he felt as though he was already a poor parent for Flora. He was only one man, after all; if only Claire was still...

Stop. He couldn’t dwell on the past. His professional life may have been all about digging up relics from long ago, but he worked hard to forget parts of his past. Some of them had wrapped up nicely, over time. This was not one that would.

Layton met a polite woman with a brightly colored dress who recognized him from the paper, had a brief conversation with Bill Hawks, the prime minister, and eventually found Inspector Chelmey and Assistant Inspector Barton. He was glad to see the gruff man, even if their relationship had once been poor. Unfortunately, the two (or really, just the Inspector) seemed caught up in a rather heated argument with a japanese man in a labcoat.

About to step in to mediate the commotion, he paused. Something caught his eye. At the edge of the crowd, a young woman with hair like blood shook her head, rubbing her temples anxiously. To the Professor’s surprise, he recognized her. With another quick glance towards Chelmey proving that the inspector had everything under control, he walked towards the woman.

“Oh my god...I knew I shouldn’t have brought him. What was I thinking?” The woman was muttering to herself as he walked up. He tapped her on the shoulder, and she jumped in surprise. 

“Ah, forgive me.” Layton held up his hands in apology, then extended one for a handshake. “Miss Makise Kurisu, I presume? I was quite impressed by your thesis on the effects of Folsensium. I never would’ve expected it could be used to help memory disorders in such a way.”

After a moment trying to place his face, she took his hand and gave it a friendly shake. “Professor Hershel Layton―Please, call me Makise. And thank you, I’m flattered that you read my thesis.” She beamed at hearing her work praised, the Professor noted. 

“Makise? Then feel free to call me Hershel as well.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t. I’ve only just been hired as an assistant teacher, I couldn’t speak to you so informally.” She blushed embarrassedly, and the Professor remembered retroactively that she currently lived in Japan. Their naming sense was different there.

“Nonsense! Your accomplishments are well worth being proud of. If that is the case, however, feel free to call me whatever you feel comfortable with.”

They made comfortable small talk about their work and hobbies, London and Akihabara (where Makise currently lived), the weather, and other insignificant things before the question was raised.

“So, what do you think of this? Do you think they really made a working time machine?”

Makise’s simple question wasn’t meant to be pointed, but the words spiked into the Professor’s heart. He remembered asking Claire similar questions. Half-unconsciously, he reached up to rub the brim of his hat. “I’m not entirely sure. If they have…” he trailed off.

He turned to find her eyes staring at him with a strange intensity. It felt as if she could see into his soul, but after a moment, she blinked and the strange glare went away. “I used to think it was impossible, but nowadays, I think it’s far more possible than we give it credit. But if it is, who gets to control it? What will change if we start to use it?” She shook her head. “Sorry, it should be an occasion for celebration. I just feel worried…”

The Professor nodded. “I understand how you feel. More than most, perhaps.” He gazed off at the giant machine for a moment, then shook himself out of his own thoughts. “Anyway, I―”

“CHRISTINA, HELP ME!”

The japanese man who had been arguing with Inspector Chelmey suddenly ran up to Makise, although the Professor stepped into the man’s path. “Excuse me, sir, but is there something I can help you with?”

In response, the man jumped back into a strange pose, as if he had combined three martial arts into one strange amalgamation. With one hand still raised, he lifted a battered flip phone to his ear and began muttering into it. Layton distinctly heard ‘mad hatter,’ among other things that made no sense.

With a sigh, Makise grabbed ahold of the Professor’s arm and pulled him back. She grimaced, then glared at the man in front of them. “Sorry about this, Professor. That’s my...boyfriend.” The man lowered his phone at the sight of her eyes. “And it looks like he needs my help.”

“Ah, I see.” Although the woman smiled, both men felt dread through her gaze. “Well, if that is the case,” The Professor reached into his pocket and brought out a small rectangle of paper. “This is my card. If you are staying in the area, I’d love to speak again.”

She accepted it, and read it over quizzically. “I think you’ve given me the wrong card, Professor. This doesn’t have your information on it.”

“No, no, that’s my card. I’m something of a puzzle aficionado. If you can figure out the solution, you’re free to give me a call.”

“Huh.” for a moment, she seemed surprised. She recovered quickly. “Well, thank you. It was nice meeting you.” With a nod, Layton turned to leave.

“Wait!” 

Layton started at the slightly accented shout, but turned around to stare back into the man’s brown eyes. They were colored deeper than he’d first realized, like the color seeping through a thin paper. They studied the Professor. Then the man spoke quietly, “what do you think? Of a real time machine? Do you think they really succeeded?”

“I…”

_ Remember Claire. _

“I’m afraid I’m not the one you’d want to hear a comment from. I’m not entirely sure. I suppose we’ll have to wait to see.” said Professor Layton. He stared the young man down, matching his gaze. 

The man straightened up. With an overly dramatic point of his finger, he proclaimed, “Behold, ye agent of the Organization! You will not fool me; I have seen your tru―”

He was cut off by a swift punch to the gut from his girlfriend, and was promptly dragged away after she apologized to the Professor.

He took a deep breath and turned to walk back to his seat. He lifted his hand to wipe sweat off his brow (with a handkerchief, as any true gentleman would), and realized that his hand was shaking. In fact, he had cold sweat all over his body, and both his hands were trembling.

_ I knew I shouldn’t have come. Come now, Hershel―breathe.  _ He forced himself through a breathing exercise that would lessen the effect, but he felt his throat contracting. He’d taken his medication in the morning, but the tense feeling through his body could’ve fooled him otherwise.  _ Ever since Claire.  _ Why had he accepted an invitation to a live showing of a  _ time machine _ ? Of course this would be the result.

With a shaky breath, the Professor sat down next to Luke. “Professor, are you alright? You look pale...and clammy.” the boy added after a second look. 

“I’m...not doing well today, Luke. I shouldn’t have come.” Luke nodded understandingly. It was a cruel irony: the Professor could risk his life in so many different situations, but losing Claire had scarred him so deeply. It was not a story Layton liked to tell, but those close to him knew. The Triton family was one of them.

“Is there any way I can help? We can leave, sir. I can read about the ti―er, the machine in the papers.” Luke asked, concerned.

Layton smiled slightly. He felt a bit better now. Leaning back into his chair, he adjusted his hat and took a deep breath. The episode had passed. For now. Closing his eyes, he responded, “No, I’m feeling a bit better now. Thank you, my boy.” 

“Of course, Professor! Let me know if you need anything―that’s a gentleman’s duty, after all!” 

Soon, their food arrived. A scientist with grey hair stepped up to the stage next to the machine, and the crowd grew quiet. Layton hoped that the proceedings would go peacefully.

Unfortunately, they would not.

* * *

Hershel Layton collapsed into his bed. He wanted nothing more or less than to fall asleep and forget the happenings of the day, but it was not yet time for that. He just needed a short break.

The rest of the time machine exhibition had been a disaster. The machine itself had exploded with the Prime Minister inside, and the head scientist was nowhere to be found―along with many of the guests. London was in disarray, and the event hadn’t even made its way into the paper yet. 

After the initial shock had worn off, pandemonium broke out. It was only due to Inspector Chelmey’s quick work that any semblance of order had been regained. Once more of the police force had arrived, the Professor had helped assess the possibilities. A terrorist attack? A failed experiment? Sabotage? Unfortunately, there wasn’t enough evidence to make any decisions.

To solve a puzzle, you first needed all the pieces.

By the time the police were vetting the crowd of attendees, Layton felt worse than he had in months. He spoke briefly with the Inspector, then got special permission to leave. On his way out, he took the time to vouch for some guests he recognized. But once he got home, he allowed his facade to break down, if only for a moment. He just needed to relax.

After a few minutes, he left his room. On the table, a cup of tea laid steaming next to some biscuits on a plate. Flora beamed at him from the couch, where she sat sipping her own brew. As he walked to his usual spot, the girl stood. She stopped him right before he sat, intercepting him with a tight hug.

“It’ll be ok, papa.” She rarely called him papa. “It’ll be ok.” It wouldn’t be, but he hoped her lie could be true. “I made you a cup of tea.”

“Thank you, my dear. I really don’t deserve such a sweet child.” Hershel―not the flawless Professor, but the man behind the mask―embraced Flora in return. His eyes stung, but no tears fell. He’d forgotten how to cry long ago.

“Don’t be silly. You’re a perfect gentleman, aren’t you?” She unclasped her arms from around Hershel and instead held his hands. “So of course you deserve a perfectly sweet girl like me.” The two of them shared a chuckle, and the tender moment passed.

They sat quietly, sipping their tea. Flora’s skill regarding food had gone from dangerous to simply average, and to Hershel’s delight, the tea was brewed perfectly. He complimented her so, and she smiled happily. It seemed that Rosa’s lessons were working; he made a mental note to give her a bonus.

After a lovely half hour filled with nothing but two calming cups of tea, the Professor felt like himself again. There was still one strange occurrence to ponder before his day could be over, however.

Before the two had left the event, Luke had remembered something strange: he’d gotten a letter claiming to be from the future. According to the boy, he’d thrown it away, assuming it was some sort of prank. After today...well, maybe it was something more than a simple prank.

It was puzzling, no doubt. 

* * *

“So, you think what happened last week is somehow connected to this letter?” asked Luke. “Wait! Maybe if the time machine is real, then this letter is too!

The Professor shook his head. “I don’t know about that, but these two elements aren’t the only puzzling issues. Tell me, Luke, have you heard about the recent disappearances happening here in London?”

“Oh, yes. I read about it in the paper. Some of the greatest scientists in London have mysteriously vanished.” Luke paused, then continued, “I almost missed it. The time machine fiasco took the front page, of course. The disappearances were farther back than they would’ve been otherwise.”

“Yes, and I can’t shake the feeling that those disappearances are linked to this whole affair.” agreed the Professor. “In any case, it seems our best course of action is to head to the location mentioned in the letter.”

“Good idea!”

  
  



	2. Temporal Encounter: The Scientists’ Side

A two-floored bus navigated through London on a bright summer day. It was perhaps one-third full, and the top half had people scattered around its seats. Near the back, two figures attempted to stay unnoticed―one with a messy scrawl of black hair wearing a jacket over a labcoat, the other with dark red hair in a casual outfit.

They were following Professor Layton and his assistant. The two of them were sitting at the front of the bus, standing out like two spots of color on a blank canvas. Kurisu, slouching in her seat with her hands over her face, said quietly “I can’t believe you got me to stalk Professor Layton.”

“Hush, Christina,” Okabe hissed back. “This isn’t the time to get cold feet. And it isn’t stalking, it’s investigating.” He added with a self-righteous smile. 

The smile was a lie, Kurisu knew. His guise of Hououin Kyouma always had been. But now, knowing what could be at stake, it was a lie more than ever.

Under any other circumstances, Kurisu would’ve flat-out refused to follow the Professor. He was well-known across Europe for his achievements; spanning from archeology to science and detective work. He was a long-time professor of Gressenheller University, and was well connected across the world. Even her colleagues at Victor Chondria had heard of him.

But after meeting him at the failed time machine showing, something had seemed off. And, if Okabe was right, there was more to it. 

Physical time travel.

Kurisu didn’t want to believe it, but Okabe had been deadly serious when he’d spoken to her about it. The Professor’s assistant had mentioned getting a letter from his future self. The two had been leaving in a hurry, but Okabe was certain he’d heard at least that much. Thus, there they were: hidden at the back of a bus, watching to see where the duo would disembark. 

It had all started when Kurisu had gotten an invitation to the showing of the time machine...

* * *

Okabe jerked awake with a strangled gasp, clammy and slick with sweat. After a moment of tense, fist-clenching silence, a hearty snore from Daru put him at ease. He took a breath into his body and closed his eyes, but his mind was buzzing. After a minute, he got up and stretched, leaving his big-bodied friend to hog the blankets.

He trudged out of the bedroom and into the small living room. His head ached from jerking awake, so he got himself a glass of water and peered out the window of their hotel room. It was early; the sun peeked over the London skyline as if it were frightened to emerge. 

A month ago, his girlfriend, Makise Kurisu, had received an invitation to a showing. While not completely unprecedented, an invitation from so far away was certainly unusual. But what shocked them was not the distance, but the subject.

A live showing of a time machine.

Okabe had nearly had a breakdown at the idea that she was being targeted by someone who knew their secret. SERN or some other organization was targeting her, and he had no way to protect her, as she lived halfway across the globe while she worked at Victor Chondria. But Kurisu had stopped him. According to rumor among the teachers, there were a lucky few across the world being invited. It was suspicious, but unlikely to be targeting her specifically.

“And it says I have the freedom to bring one extra guest,” she’d said over the phone. “If you promise me― _ promise, Rintarou _ ―that you won’t act up, I’ll bring you along.” 

The fearsome tone in his girlfriend’s voice had been enough to force an agreement out of him, but he’d had nightmares almost nightly since the call. 

The nightmares weren’t new, of course, but they weren’t really something that one got used to.

Time had passed since then, and it was the morning of the showing. Headache subsiding, Okabe rubbed his head and opened Kurisu’s laptop. He opened a new tab and looked up the event for the umpteenth time. Very little had been revealed to the public, so he got no new information other than poorly-informed articles that had popped up since yesterday. He sighed, closed the tab, and leaned back against his chair.

“You’re up early.”

Okabe lifted his head to meet Kurisu’s gaze. “Of course, Assistant. I must be prepared for the Organization’s schemes at all times.” He spoke quietly, knowing that Daru (and likely Mayuri in the second bedroom) were still asleep. Kurisu, however, was not amused.

“Really, what are you doing up so early? Not that I care, but…” She trailed off.

Okabe smiled, more genuinely than before. His partner’s tsundere side showed itself from time to time, but he knew she cared. “I don’t sleep all that well anymore. It’s...I’m used to it.”

Kurisu frowned. “Go take a cold shower, it’ll wake you up. I’ll brew some coffee.” 

Okabe sighed, knowing he’d never win this battle. She had a point, though, so he stood and walked toward the bathroom. Suddenly, a pair of arms wrapped around him from behind, pinning his arms to his sides. He froze.

“It’s ok, it’s ok. It’s me.” Kurisu’s voice came from right behind him, and he relaxed, mostly. “It’ll be ok. We’re just going to attend the event.” She squeezed him in a hug, and he was helpless in her embrace. “You haven’t been contacted by your future self, right? It’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry.”

There were certain times Okabe knew what Kurisu was thinking, while the opposite was rarely true. It was in large part because of the sheer amount of time he spent repeating a year and a half ago. But in this moment, if someone had told him that his girlfriend could read his mind, he would’ve believed them. 

“I know.” he croaked, “but I’m still worried.”

She hugged him tighter. They said nothing.

* * *

As Professor Layton walked away from the duo, Kurisu glared at her partner with a cold glare in her eyes. She said nothing.

“There was something off about his answer.”

The serious tone in Okabe’s voice made Kurisu pause. She’d planned to berate him for acting out, but now she hesitated. To her chagrin, she agreed with him. The Professor had acted strangely when talking about the time machine, strangely nervous and unnerved by her question.

“I...agree. But more importantly, what are you doing?”

Okabe opened his mouth to respond, but a hand grabbed his shoulder. “Hold on now, boy.” Said a gruff voice. “You’re not getting away from me that easily.” The speaker was a mustachioed man with a slightly hunched back. A short police officer stood behind him, looking anxious.

“Is there a problem, sir?” 

“Do you know this ruffian, miss?” The man shot back.

“Yes, he was my plus-one for this event. May I ask who you are?” Kurisu replied, still attempting to gauge who the man was.

“Inspector Chelmey, of the Scotland Yard. I was trying to speak with him, but he ran away.” Chelmey turned to Okabe. “So, do you have an excuse for skulking around in a labcoat, especially during such a groundbreaking event?”

“Ah…” Okabe paused, then turned to Kurisu and asked quietly, “What does skulking mean?”

“It means, like, sneaking around. It’s not a  _ good _ thing.” She stressed. It was easy to forget how new her boyfriend was to the english language. He’d picked it up with remarkable swiftness, but he still slipped up from time to time. 

“Well, I…” Okabe slowly spoke, trying to think of an adequate reason that wouldn’t get him thrown straight in jail. “I, uh, don’t know. Is that unusual here in the Great Britains?” He said, allowing his accent to slip out more than usual.

Internally, Kurisu wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Had he seriously just played the foreigner card? 

“Hmph,” the Inspector snorted. “Well since you’ve got an excuse for being here, I suppose you’re in the clear. Sorry for the trouble, miss.” The inspector turned and gestured to his assistant. “Come on, Barton. Looks like they’re about to start.”

As soon as the man was out of earshot, Kurisu whipped around and grabbed onto the labcoat by the front. She lifted, and while she wasn’t strong enough to lift her partner off his feet, he certainly seemed startled. “Take it off.” she said.

“Christina, I will not take my silvery armor off, not when we are so close to―”

“I’m sure the inspector was completely mistaken, finding you  _ skulking about _ , right Okabe?” she said sarcastically. He grimaced, and had no answer. Off came the coat, revealing what Okabe had originally been wearing: a blue button-down, with a grey jacket and pants. Kurisu hated to admit it, but it looked surprisingly good on him. When asked about it, he’d muttered something about a previous date he’d been on and changed the subject.

“How did you even get this? I didn’t see you bringing it...” Said Kurisu to no one in particular. 

“Ladies and gentlemen!” A voice boomed out from the stage. The two turned to see a well-dressed man with a microphone speaking out to the crowd. Clearly, the event was starting; the few guests who hadn’t sat down yet scurried to their seats (Kurisu and Okabe included) as the man continued speaking. He was clearly far too full of himself, but after a few words, he introduced the head scientist to the crowd: Dr. Alain Stahngan.

A grey-haired man with well-groomed facial hair stepped up. He wore a labcoat over a simple turtleneck and khakis. He seemed perfectly at ease in front of the world’s best minds, even as the giant metal monster of a time machine puffed steam next to him. It had a spherical chamber as its center with a giant clock on top, and was covered in important-looking wiring and tubing.

“He’s wearing a labcoat. Why can’t I?” muttered Okabe under his breath. Kurisu pretended not to hear him.

“Thank you, my esteemed colleagues.” His voice seemed breathy, but he spoke with confidence. “After years of research in the field of time travel, I am pleased to share the fruits of my labor. In just a few short moments, I will be moving on to our scheduled demonstration―but first, I am delighted to announce that Prime Minister Bill Hawks is in attendance today.” He gestured to a guest at the table nearest to the podium. “As such, I have reserved a very special seat for our very special guest. Please join me onstage, Prime Minister. No need to be shy!”

The Prime Minister, a man with somewhat angular, unattractive features, stepped up to the podium and spoke quietly with the scientist for a short minute. The big-voiced presenter who had started the event asked, “Before we start the event, would you honor us with a few words, Prime Minister?”

With a nod and a smile that could’ve won a prize, the Prime Minister stepped up to the podium. Okabe began eating his food, tuning out the speech. He’d barely eaten anything all day―he still wasn’t hungry, but he forced it down regardless. It didn’t taste very good.

The Prime Minister finished his speech, and the crowd applauded. Even while tuning it out, Okabe had to admit it was a rousing moment. Dr. Stahngan stepped up to the podium next to the leader. “I have just one more request before we start.” 

More than a few questioning looks were pointed towards the scientist, but he continued. “I’d very much appreciate the Prime Minister’s assistance in this demonstration. What do you say, Mr. Hawks?”

“Wh-what?!”

Lifting his hands in a placating manner, Dr. Stahngan said, “I assure you, there’s no cause for concern. A simple five-minute jaunt through time.”

Clearly put off, the Prime Minister stuttered, “But I was under the impression that I would only be observing the proceedings.”

“Ah, well. Do forgive my presumption.” Said Dr. Stahngan, “it was never my wish to make you uncomfortable. I realize it’s been quite some time since you traded in the hard sciences for the softer variety. Please, feel free to return to your seat, Prime Minister.” 

The scientist’s words clearly rubbed the Prime Minister the wrong way; the man made an irritated face and said, “Wait! What I mean to say is, of course I can assist you.

His wife hissed a sharp few words of disbelief, but the scientist smiled and responded, “Ah, that’s the courage we’ve come to expect from our fearless leader. You have my thanks.” He turned to the crowd. “And now, without further ado, I give you my time machine! Mr. Hawks, would you mind just stepping inside?”

The orb-shaped core of the machine fell open, revealing a futuristic-seeming interface of lights and levers. The Prime Minister slowly walked up the steps to the seat inside, then turned to face the crowd. At the side of the machine, Dr. Stahngan looked at a stream of paper with numbers and symbols on it, then pulled a lever.

Suddenly, the machine came to life. The doors began to close, the gauges began to move, and an electric hum filled the air. The crowd watched with eager eyes as the doors hissed shut; the scientist simply smiled.

Perhaps the only one not paying their full attention to the machine was Kurisu. Instead, she held Okabe’s hand under the table. He was pale, watching the proceedings intensely, as if his life depended on it. Kurisu rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand in a rhythmic fashion, hoping it would calm him down. 

Dr. Alain Stahngan pulled a second lever, and the machine roared in response. The gauges’ pointers shot up, and steam billowed out of the exhaust pipes. Electricity began to spark across the top of the machine, and Okabe began breathing with difficulty.

Electricity sparked across the surface of the orb that contained the Prime Minister. It bared some resemblance to the reaction from the phone-microwave, but without the concentrated grouping. This electricity was wild and uncontrolled. With a pressurized whine, the machine―despite it’s thick metal walls―bulged as pressure built.

Okabe felt tight, like he couldn’t breathe. Even so, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He waited; hoping, praying he wouldn’t feel his reading steiner activate.

Like a too-full balloon, the time machine suddenly burst. Smoke and mechanical shrapnel blew across the podium and the space around it. The giant clock was launched into the air and fell to the ground, destroying a fountain in the process. The sounds of explosions and collisions intermingled with the cries of the crowd.

All of this fell on deaf ears, however, when it came to Okabe. His eyes had glazed over, and all he could hear was the deafening thump of his heart. His throat felt constricted, and his voice wouldn’t come out. His hands and feet had gone numb, and he couldn’t tell whether Kurisu was still next to him, still holding his hand. He struggled to breathe as pandemonium began to break out around him.

A gunshot rang out, freezing the crowd in place.

All eyes were magnetized to one figure who had stepped onto a table amidst the chaos. His arm was pointed towards the sky, a small gun in hand. “Inspector Chelmey, Scotland Yard! I dunno what in the dickens just happened, but I bloody well know it needs to be handled quickly! The Yard will be here in minutes. Until then, no one is to move, or they’ll be taken in for questioning!” He began ordering the Prime Minister’s security detail about, as whispers rushed about like wind through the masses.

Okabe felt like throwing up, but his relief sent shivers through his body. Reading steiner hadn’t reacted. The time machine had been flawed after all. Cold sweat covered his brow, yet he barely noticed.

“Okabe, can you hear me?”

Breathing freely again, he looked to his left to see Kurisu, still holding onto his hand, looking worried. He opened his mouth, but words wouldn’t come out―he nodded instead. She looked like she wanted to say something else, but he squeezed her hand gently and took a deep breath. 

No more time travel. He’d―they’d made sure of that.

* * *

The police arrived quickly, and order was restored as they took control of the situation. The crowd was put on lockdown, and people were slowly being vetted for their identities―while it seemed likely that this was a premeditated attack, the possibility of an outsider’s sabotage couldn’t be ruled out completely. Okabe found himself being interrogated by a young police officer, Kurisu nowhere to be found.

“Name?”

“...Okabe Rintarou.” He tried to focus. His mind still seemed clouded, but the episode had passed. Ironically, the Inspector’s gunshot had shocked him out of it.

The officer flipped through a few pages, then frowned. “You’re not on the guest list. Reason?”

“Ah, I came with Makise Kurisu.” He still felt like his throat was clamped, but he forced the words out. 

A few more pages flipped. “Mmm, that name’s here. Do you have identification? She around to confirm?” 

“Ah, no. She’s around somewhere, but…” Okabe trailed off, patting his pockets for his wallet. His face paled as he remembered where they were―in the pocket of the labcoat his girlfriend had taken. “...and, she has my ID. Could you let me find her? She’s not far, I’m sure.”

Growing increasingly suspicious, the officer pursed his lips. “I’m afraid not, sir. We’re under strict orders to detain anyone with less than ample reason for attending. If you don’t have―oh!”

The officer jumped in surprise as a hand was laid gently on his shoulder. Both Okabe and the officer were surprised to see that Professor Layton had walked up to them. He looked pale, but that was to be expected after such a catastrophic event had taken place. His assistant, a boy wearing blue, stood behind him.

“What seems to be the issue, officer?” said the Professor.

“Ah, this gentleman claims to have come with another guest, but doesn’t have his identification. Was there something you needed, Professor?” 

“I thought I had overheard something of that nature. I can vouch for the man. He came with Makise Kurisu, I believe?” The question was directed toward Okabe, who nodded in response. “If at all possible, would that be enough to let him through?”

The officer said nothing, contemplating. He slowly said, “Well...I suppose he can wait here for Miss Makise. But until then, I won’t be allowed to let him through.” 

In response, the Professor nodded understandingly. “I understand. Thank you for your help, officer.” He turned to Okabe. “Give Miss Makise my regards, my boy.”

Okabe nodded and smiled weakly back. He was thankful for the Professor’s assistance, but he was more than a little confused. What reason did the man have for helping him?

The pair was walking off when the small assistant spoke. They were still relatively close, so Okabe caught the beginning of their conversation. “That reminds me, Professor. I got a letter that said it was from my future self a few days ago. I threw it away, but…” Everything said after was too quiet for him to hear. Even so, he felt like lightning had struck straight through him, waking him out of his muddled stupor. 

He had been suspicious of the Professor earlier, but now he was convinced that the man was involved in the time machine fiasco. Whether a cause or an effect, however, Okabe was unsure. But if what he’d just overheard was the truth, he had to work fast to prevent what could potentially end up being the third world war.

“Okabe! There you are!” Kurisu ran up to him, giving him his wallet and greeting the police officer. “I’m sorry, I got caught up―the inspector wanted to speak with me. Apparently this,” she held up the labcoat, “looked like I was trying to smuggle something away. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. The Professor vouched for me.” Kurisu raised her eyebrows in surprise, but he wasn’t done. “Come with me. We need to talk.”

* * *

That had been a week ago. Now, the Professor and his assistant were being poorly trailed by Okabe and Kurisu. The Professor’s workplace was well-known, but finding out specific information about where he would be going in a short amount of time? That would be difficult.

The fact that they had even gotten as far as tailing the duo was due to Daru’s ‘Supah Hakah’ skills, information from students taking summer classes at Gressenheller, and a stroke of pure luck. To use one of the Professor’s signature phrases, “every puzzle has an answer.”

Professor Layton and his apprentice were talking unconcernedly at the front of the bus. Okabe, wearing a confident face, rubbed his fingers together anxiously. Kurisu slumped in her seat, hands over her face. 

Okabe hoped he had been mistaken. That he had misheard, or that the boy had been making a joke. But in his gut, he knew that it wouldn’t be. And if he was going to have this worldline, his hard-fought worldline, ripped from his grasp, he’d fight his hardest to keep ahold of it, even for just another second. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the second chapter is up! It fits with the first chapter in some sections, filling in holes that were empty previously. I've changed some minor things of the story to fit the fic better, but it shouldn't be anything too noticeable. Let me know what you thought of this chapter; good, bad, or just advice for it! Thanks for reading!


	3. Temporal Convergence

With a puff of exhaust, a two-floored bus drove away, leaving Layton and Luke in the middle of a shopping district of London. Shops and flats rose two or three stories around them, creating the crowded look typical of a busy town, although there were markedly less people around than normal. 

In front of the two, behind the bus terminal at the side of the road, was a footpath that rose up and into the thick of the buildings. 

“Well, here we are.” said Luke, adjusting his hat and looking down the path. “The clock shop the letter mentioned should be around here somewhere. But where?”

The Professor nodded. “This seems an ideal time to consult the map that accompanied the letter. Here, Luke. See if you can’t find the shop’s location by yourself.”

“Say no more, Professor!” said Luke cheerfully, already pulling out the envelope. The instructions included were a bit of a puzzle, but Luke found the solution without too much trouble. It was a clever use of a clock’s face, and the Professor had no doubt it was made specifically for them. They were being led to a clock shop, after all.

“Great! Finding that shop should be a snap now.” Said Luke cheerfully.

“Excellent work, Luke. Let’s get moving, then.” Said the Professor. The duo nodded politely in greeting to an elderly woman who had walked up to the bus stop, then set off on their way up the path. 

They made small talk about their past adventures as they walked. About how they’d kept track of the strange happenings that always seemed to occur around the two. The Professor talked about his recent archeology findings, while Luke nodded and asked questions. 

As a man on a bicycle glided by, Layton turned to his apprentice and said, “Do you know much about your father’s intent to move overseas?”

“No.” Luke said, scowling. “My father says that he’s being offered a job in the states, and he’s not sure whether or not to take it. I don’t particularly want to move. What do you think about it, Professor?”

“Hmm,” said Layton, “Well, from what I’ve heard, it certainly seems like an excellent proposition. If I was in your father’s shoes, I would most likely take the offer.” Luke frowned. The two walked on, quieter now, between the buildings throwing shadows through the alleys of London. 

Before long, they walked up to a man with a round body and a bushy beard standing at an intersection. Some small storefronts stood out around him, although they were clearly closed for the day. Walking up to him, the Professor smiled and asked, “Hello, sir. Would you happen to know of a clock shop in the vicinity?”

* * *

Approximately two and a half blocks past Professor Layton’s stop, the bus screeched to a halt after an emergency stop button was pressed by two foreigners sitting at the back. Okabe jumped up and ran out of the bus, spouting gibberish in japanese that no passengers would have understood, whether they understood the language or not. Kurisu followed him out, covering her face in sheer embarrassment. 

Standing on the sidewalk as the bus hissed and began driving away, Okabe turned to his partner with a dramatic flair. “That went excellently, Christina! Operation Sleipnir is now underway!”

Uncovering her face, Kurisu sighed. “Okabe. Please, now is not the time. Hououin Kyouma is the last thing I want to deal with right now.” 

Lowering his arms, Okabe shrugged and gestured for her to follow him; he began walking back towards where the Professor and his assistant had gotten off the bus. Kurisu followed, shaking off the residual shame from the bus. 

“So, what do you want to do once we confront the Professor?” asked Kurisu. Okabe had gotten her to accompany him in his espionage, but had stayed vague about what would happen afterwards. All he’d promised was that they wouldn’t resort to violence.

“We need to confront the pair, and find what secrets they are hiding,” said Okabe, sounding dangerously close to Hououin Kyouma but lacking the typical flair. “And stop them by whatever means, should they be nearing the truth of time travel.” 

“And if they really have been contacted from the future? What then?”

Okabe grimaced. After a moment of thought, he said, “That will depend on how, and why.”

Neither of them mentioned the obvious fallacy showing―if there was to be time travel, why had their own future selves not contacted them in warning? There were two likely reasons: either there was no issue with time travel in the first place, or the two of them had died unexpectedly. Or been killed.

The possibility was far too real, unfortunately.

Kurisu caught up to her boyfriend, and he slipped his hand into hers. His breath was labored, and not simply from the walking. After what he’d been through in the beta worldline, he was apprehensive about finding another trace of time travel. She squeezed his hand gently, and he squeezed back.

A faint blush appeared on both of their faces.

Soon, the duo arrived at the stop where the Professor and his apprentice had left the bus. It was sparsely populated, with shops and other buildings standing around them. The bus stop itself was unremarkable, just a flimsy red roof over a timetable. An elderly lady with thick glasses and hair like a layered cake stood at the bus stop, watching the two quizzically. 

As they walked up to the bus stop, the lady said, “Why hello there, bright eyes! I can tell from the looks on your faces that you’re hankering to hear something useful!” Her voice was slightly raspy. “All right, here’s my nugget of wisdom. Go and poke at that car parked right over there.”

The couple turned their heads to see a ugly beige car that looked like it was a day away from never moving again. They looked at each other, unsure. “Ah, actually,” asked Kurisu, “we were looking for Professor Layton―he wears got a top hat, and―”

She was cut off by the lady shaking her head. “I know who the Professor is. I saw him, too. But do you think that just because a couple of his students come looking for him, I should tell you where he went? Poke at that car and maybe I’ll tell you.”

Kurisu frowned; Okabe shrugged in agreement. Letting go of Kurisu’s hand, he sidled over to the car and poked at the hood. “When you said poke at it, did you mea―”

Suddenly, with a loud clunk and a hiss, the hood popped open and interrupted Okabe’s question. He flinched and jumped backwards with a choked shout as something small and shiny popped out; he caught it with both hands. Kurisu’s head swiveled back and forth from the car, to Okabe, to the old lady, who seemed unperturbed.

“Ah, uh, um―it just fell apart!”

“Never mind that! Did you see the coin that just popped out?” Okabe opened his hands, and the two saw that it was indeed a coin. “That’s a hint coin, and it’s yours to keep. If you ever find yourself stuck on a puzzle, you can spend one of these lovely coins to get a hint.”

“Um...Ok?”

“Just remember that there’s a limit to the number of hint coins you can find. If you use them willy-nilly, you may find yourself in a pinch later.” She continued, “Hint coins are tucked away all over the place, so tap anything that looks fishy. Well, that’s the end of my speech.”

Both Okabe and Kurisu stared at her, dumbfounded by the strangeness of the situation. “But...the car?” asked Kurisu slowly.

“Oh, don’t worry about that old piece of junk. It’s my husband’s, and I’ve been telling him to get a new one for ages. Hopefully he won’t have another excuse now.” She chuckled.

“Well, that’s...good? Now, Professor Layton?”

“Oh, right. He and his little friend went down that path.” The lady said, pointing behind the bus stop. 

The two quickly said their thanks, then hurried down the path before she had the chance to chain them down with another long-winded rant. They dashed up the steps, then paused to recoup once they were out of sight from the terminal. For a moment, the two were silent, catching their breath. They looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing.

Sputtering, Kurisu snorted, “What...what was that about?”

“I would say she was an agent of the Organization, but even they aren’t as bad as that!” Laughed Okabe.

“Let me see that coin, Okabe.” Said Kurisu, regaining control of herself. Still chuckling, he opened his hand to show her the coin. It was a small, bronze coin with an insignia of a hat on it. She stared at it, then said, “Doesn’t that look like the Professor’s hat?”

Okabe looked closer. “Hmm. It does indeed. The plot thickens, wouldn’t you say, Christina?” He flung the hem of his lab coat out, then pulled himself back to reality. “We should get moving again.” He said, cutting off the irritated growl from his partner.

Nodding assent, Kurisu followed him down the path.

* * *

As the bearded man ran off, Luke shouted, “Wait up!” 

The Professor chuckled and shrugged, “something tells me he was more interested in getting us to solve his riddle than helping. Not to worry, though. I’m sure we can find the clock shop on our own: it’s probably just a bit farther down this path.” 

“Well, it still wasn’t very fair for him to run off, don’t you think, Professor?”

Rubbing the brim of his hat, Professor Layton said, “I suppose not. But remember, Luke: a true gentleman never makes a scene in public.”

“I understand, Professor!” Luke took out a small notebook and scribbled a few words down.

As both a teacher and a mentor, watching his protege make notes filled Professor Layton with pride. “Excellent work, Luke. I have no doubt you will be quite the gentleman soon―far earlier than I was, I should mention.” The Professor smiled, beginning to walk up the path again.

Luke, running to catch up with him, quipped back, “I’m already a gentleman-in-training, aren’t I? Soon I’ll be so gentlemanly, you’ll be shocked!” The Professor chuckled, and the two walked deeper into the labyrinthine tangle of London. 

Their path wound them through back streets and alleys―and while the distance of the walk itself wasn’t long, the duo kept getting waylaid. Professor Layton was practically a local celebrity, and more than one stranger ran up to them to test a puzzle they had made. Between the puzzles and the fans, it took nearly a half hour to arrive.

Just past a seedy intersection with arches over the pathways, the Layton and Luke found the clock shop. It was snugly fit at the end of a dead-end path with moss growing everywhere and a puddle taking up half of the sidewalk. Light seemed to focus down onto a great clock hung in front of the store. It was set like a stage, and they were simply here to step into the spotlight.

“This must be the place, Professor!”

Stopping, Professor Layton looked down at his assistant. “Ah, finally.” He said, seemingly preoccupied.

“I’ll get the door!” Chirped Luke happily, but the Professor stopped him with a gentle hand on the shoulder. “Hmm? What’s wrong, Professor?”

“There seems to be someone else who needs to be confronted. At first, I thought it was someone else with a puzzle, but now, I think it is someone else entirely.” Layton said quietly to Luke. Raising his voice, he swiveled and pointed, announcing, “and that person is you there!”

* * *

Okabe was no stranger to skulking about. He’d done enough of it in the beta timeline to know how to stay out of sight when stalking someone, although now he didn’t have the luxury of a time leap machine. Even despite his typically loud persona as Hououin Kyouma, he had plenty of experience to cover himself with.

The same, unfortunately, could not be said for Kurisu.

After a tip-off from a bearded man running towards the bus stop, the pair made their way up the path, avoiding the offshoot alleys and listening for the tell-tale voice of the Professor. It wasn’t a difficult search, thankfully. The man was well-known throughout London, and most of the people they encountered just assumed they were puzzle enthusiasts or his students. Or both.

Once the two found the Professor, however, they tried their best to keep out of his sight. They watched from behind corners or walls, waiting for the man to give some evidence of the time travel they feared. No such luck―so they kept following.

Kurisu tried her best, but in the cramped paths of backstreet London, she made her presence obvious. Her footsteps echoed and her peeks around corners were dangerously obvious. Okabe tried to help her, but her stubborn streak that he thought was both endearing and infuriating pushed him away.

Ten or so minutes after they’d found the Professor, they’d followed through an arched intersection. With a quick peek, Okabe took in a glimpse of a giant analog clock hanging on a store at the end of the path. The path itself was unkempt and neglected, but the store itself stuck out like a bright penny. The Professor and his assistant had stopped a ways from the door, and were talking quietly. Okabe and Kurisu both strained to hear what they were saying.

“And that person is you there!” The Professor’s voice rang out. Okabe froze, then peeked around the corner ever so slightly. A finger was pointed straight at them.

“Uh oh.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens. Thanks for reading!


End file.
